


Pyrrhic

by yannasunflower



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-06-17 02:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15451218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yannasunflower/pseuds/yannasunflower
Summary: Haruno Sakura returns to her little hometown for just one thing: some quiet. But take a few murders in a small town, toss in an infuriatingly handsome detective, and mix with a fifteen year old unsolved case, and she's got the headache of the ages. If there is a god, she knows they're laughing at her.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Story can also be found on ffnet. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

It was hot. Insects buzzed through the suffocating air as Sakura resisted the urge to wipe at the back of her neck, where sweat had gathered despite the fact she had pulled her long hair into a high ponytail. Her white sunglasses kept sliding down her nose, her entire face slick, and she contained a sigh, checking her phone once more. The white numbers read 2:13 PM, a full thirty minutes after her train had arrived. The battery was in the red zone and she tsked as she put it in “low power mode”. Late, of course. Ino was almost chronically late.

The train station was deserted at the time of day where most people were taking shelter in their air-conditioned homes from the July heat. It was a small town, so the train station wasn’t as busy as one in Tokyo would be.

She brought her cigarette to her lips again, letting the smoke leave her mouth slowly as she exhaled. Sakura eyed the lingering cloud, half-heartedly missing her small apartment in Tokyo. At least her small apartment there had been air-conditioned and stocked with cold water. She sipped at her lukewarm water at the thought, thinking wistfully of the ice cream she could buy once in town.

Just as the thought passed her mind, a blonde head came dashing into the station, electric eyes shining at the sight of Sakura on a bench, bags gathered around her bare legs. Sakura felt something in her breathe at the sight of Ino in jeans and a t-shirt, mouth wide open. The picture of home.

“Forehead!” she cried, waving frantically as though Sakura wouldn’t be able to see her through the non-existent crowd. Nonetheless, she couldn’t suppress a smile.

“You’re late,” she nagged, standing and slinging one of her smaller bags over her shoulder. She tossed her spent cigarette on the ground, grounding it beneath her heel.

Ino huffed, eyeing the cigarette butt but saying nothing as she lifted Sakura’s suitcases up onto her shoulders with a roll of her eyes.

“Nice to see you, too. It’s only been like 3 years,” the blonde whined. Sakura smiled again, a little warmer this time, pulling the blonde into a short but tight hug.

“I missed you,” she whispered. Ino’s scent was familiar – vanilla and a mixture of flowers and soil. Sakura could smell her cigarette as well, the scents colliding and mixing in a way that she wasn’t used to, but was still right. Her blonde hair was soft against Sakura’s cheek.

Ino’s hand rubbed her back and she could feel her friend’s body relaxing against hers.

“You smell like cigarettes,” Ino hummed, not distastefully. Sakura threw back her head and laughed, the sound carrying out the station, clear and strong.

* * *

 

With a promise to be back to help, Ino left Sakura staring at her grandmother’s old apartment. A little dust had collected in the short two weeks since her death. She stood and stared at it for a little while, unwilling to move and disturb the nearly oppressive peace. The apartment was small but tasteful, with a nice couch and armchair, a small kitchen, two bedrooms and a bathroom. It even had a near-unused study her grandmother only kept clean for Sakura’s rare trips home.

Her grandmother’s TV was brand new, a gift from Sakura for Christmas. She remembered the phone call that had followed it, her grandmother practically yelling to be heard over the festivities in the background.

_“My favorite news anchor’s face has never been uglier!” the woman laughed raucously. “I can see every flaw on his face!”_

_Sakura could see her grandmother’s face as if it was right in front of her, the infamous Haruno eyes glittering, the face wrinkled with laugh lines._

_In the background, Sakura could hear a glass shattering followed by scattered boos and cheers alike. She smiled softly. She was nearly positive she could pick out Naruto’s voice. She drew her robe tighter around her slim frame, sucking in a breath of the cold morning air before taking a drag of her cigarette. Beside her, the coffee still steamed. She closed her eyes against the headache throbbing between her temples. She should’ve known it was too much champagne…_

_“Anyway, dear, how are you? Did you like your gift? It was my mother’s and I thought it was time you had it,” her grandmother said, a little quieter as she stepped outside, and the party sounds faded in the background._

_Sakura exhaled. The beautiful pearl ring her grandmother had sent her glittered on her left hand and she considered it, splaying her fingers out in front of her, careful not to drop her cigarette._

_“It’s beautiful, Obaa-chan,” she replied truthfully. “I love it.”_

_“You sound tired, dear.”_

_Sakura caught the mirthless laugh before it escaped her. She brought the cigarette to her mouth for another quick puff._

_“My editor is ruthless, you know, especially with this big deadline. I haven’t slept in months.” The lie sounded half-baked, even to her._

_Tsubaki laughed, the same careless cackle that hadn’t changed with the years. Sakura smiled again at the sound._

_“You’re right, dear, I’ll let you sleep. Call me again in a few days, alright? I love you!”_

_“Love you too, Obaa-chan,” Sakura answered warmly, hanging up. She eyed the sunrise, just barely peeking over the buildings. Her balcony overlooked a few cafes and bookstores, not much during the day. But the sunrises were gorgeous. She released more smoke from her mouth, watching it dissipate into the cold air._

_“No sleep for me,” she murmured to nobody, taking a long gulp of her coffee before stubbing her cigarette out in her ashtray and heading back inside. Her laptop screen had gone dark and she moved the mouse to wake it up, setting her coffee cup down on her desk as her eyes began to scan the words on her screen._

_She was almost done._

Sakura blinked her way back to the present. Her feet remained unmoved and she heaved a deep sigh, grabbing one of her suitcases and walking quickly down the hall. She passed her grandmother’s closed door without a second glance, heading for her own room purposefully. Her heels clicked with dull thuds against the wood floor, nearly echoing in the deathly silent apartment. Her door squeaked open, as it always had, and she felt a ghost of a smile pass her lips at the sight of her untouched room. Her bed, neatly made, pillows fluffed. A wilting flower in a vase on her desk. Just waiting for her, as her grandmother had always promised.

She set her suitcase down on her bed after kicking her shoes off of her feet, returning to the living room to grab her other bags and toss them in her room. She dug through her things until she found a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, tossing her sundress onto her bed after she had changed. After some more digging, she retreated with her headphones clutched triumphantly in her hands, tangled but none the worse for wear. She popped them in, picked a playlist, and got to work.

* * *

 

After three hours of near-frenzied cleaning, a knock at her door announced the arrival of her boxes and the little furniture she had decided to bring with her. Her grandmother’s apartment was already fully furnished so she had sold her couch and other various things.

She ushered in the workers, directing her large desk and bookcase to the study and her own bed frame and mattress to her room. The men marched out with the non-sentimental items Sakura had no problem scrapping: her grandmother’s bedframe and nightstand were of no use to her. She had bagged her clothes, planning to drop them off at a thrift store or charity. She also had the men take her own old bed, as it was smaller and worn out. They left her boxes in the living room and after offering some water bottles to them and a hefty tip, they were gone, leaving the apartment just as quiet as when she first arrived.

The floor and kitchen were all clean, the old rotting food thrown out and all of the windows open to air out the musty apartment as much as possible in the heat. Sakura was sweating but at least she couldn’t smell death anymore.

She began to unpack, organizing her bookcase and carefully placing her laptop on the desk in her new office. It still smelled like her grandmother’s perfume and Sakura let her finger drag across the framed picture of her family on the wall, ignoring the ache in her chest at her mother’s smiling face.

It was one of the only things she didn’t have the heart to throw out.

The bell rang and she jumped nearly a foot in the air, surprised by how much time had passed already. With a glance at the time, she frowned. Ino shouldn’t be done at the flower shop until eight. She made her way out of the room, closing the door softly behind her and weaving between the boxes strewn across the floor.

“Already done at the flower shop, Ino?” she called as she opened the door, blinking at the unexpected, though equally welcome sight.

“Hinata!” she said, lips stretching into a smile. The girl smiled back, long hair swaying as she held up her hands, takeout bags dangling from her long fingers.

“Ino-chan has another hour but she said you’d be hungry by now. I figured some of Minato-san’s ramen wouldn’t hurt.”

“You always did know exactly what food was perfect,” Sakura sighed wistfully, pulling her inside and shutting the door. “I’ve missed you.”

“We’ve missed you too, Sakura-chan. It’s good to see you home,” Hinata murmured as she set the food down on the small table in the living room. Her eyes were as gentle as ever, yet piercing as they looked over Sakura’s decidedly thinner frame and pale skin.

Sakura pressed a kiss to both of her cheeks, leaning back to take in the sight of her old friend as she clasped her hands. She ran an absent thumb over the diamond glittering on Hinata’s left ring finger. Hinata’s hair was a little longer but what had changed was her face, so much fuller and so vibrant. So full of life. They had grown, it seemed, in opposite directions.

“Oh, I can’t wait for the wedding,” Sakura grinned, brushing the thoughts away like smoke, releasing her old friend and turning to the food on the table. She began to unpack, already enchanted by the heavenly aroma of ramen.

She couldn’t buy noodles like these anywhere but here.

“Please don’t mind the mess, I’m still unpacking. Relax, let’s eat and you can catch me up on everything wedding-related. I’m so behind on all the news, do you have a dress yet? I’m sorry I don’t have wine or sake for the occasion.” The questions flew from her mouth as she waved her hand at the couch. She hurried to the kitchen to pour some water before settling down next to Hinata on the couch.

Hinata giggled. Sakura sat beside her, crossing her legs underneath her and snapping open her chopsticks.

“No dresses yet at all, I wanted to wait for you to get in town,” Hinata informed her. Sakura nodded vigorously, mouth too busy inhaling ramen to answer. Hinata continued talking, not touching her food until she was done like the proper lady she had been raised as.

“We’re still figuring out an exact date but I would like a winter wedding, so we’re thinking January. Naruto, of course, wants only ramen for the food and my father is not happy with that, so food planning is a little slow…”

Sakura listened carefully, interjecting with questions as she filled herself up with the food she had missed for years.

Afterward, Hinata ate as Sakura described life in Tokyo, the people she had met and the glittering gowns she had worn to beautiful parties filled with beautiful people. The wine and the food and the art. She didn’t mention the dirty coffee cups that had cluttered her sink, the empty fridge, the full ash tray or the way the sun had mocked her when she couldn’t sleep. She didn’t talk about the way her bed had never been so big and cold. Hinata didn’t need to hear about the loneliness or the big wide nothing Sakura had stared at for years.

Hinata’s eyes glittered as Sakura spoke, hands moving in the air. After she had stopped talking, Hinata reached for her hand, smiling so sweetly Sakura’s heart ached.

“Despite all that,” Hinata said. “I’m glad you’re home.”

And it was that, more than anything, that made her chest ache. Those simple words. Sakura felt a strange urge to cry. She threaded her fingers with Hinata’s and smiled back.

“Me too,” she whispered.

Hinata helped her clear the dishes before she began to help with the cleaning and unpacking. Sakura had to admit that the chore was a lot more pleasant with Hinata humming beside her, sharing whatever silly stories came to mind in the time Sakura had missed. Sakura laughed and gasped and shook her head, amused beyond belief by her friends’ antics.

A pounding on the door startled them both and Sakura pretended not to smile as Naruto’s still-familiar voice boomed out, “Sakura-chaaannn!”

Sakura was throwing open the door before she even knew she had moved, and despite the years, despite the distance and the few, short phone calls and shorter emails, the silence, she threw herself into Naruto’s arms, knowing he’d hold her for as long as she wanted. Because many things change, but many more don’t. He still smelled like ramen and sweat and Naruto. His body was still warmer than hers and his arms still held her just as tightly as ever. A warm hand fell on her head and she didn’t have to open her eyes to know Sasuke was probably failing to suppress a smile.

“Welcome home,” Sasuke sighed, sounding exasperated and relieved all at once. Sakura opened watery eyes, sniffling as she smiled perhaps the biggest she had in years, reaching a hand out over Naruto’s shoulder for Sasuke, who took it without complaint. His hair was longer and his shoulders broader, but he was still the same boy she had grown up with, shared band-aids with for scraped knees. The left corner of his mouth still quirked up in a half-smile and his hand was still so, so warm.

Ino huffed from behind them, arms crossed against her chest.

“Where were my tears?” she whined and Sakura laughed as Sasuke rolled his eyes.

Naruto remained strangely silent as he held Sakura but she didn’t need his words to understand. She pressed her forehead against his shoulder, embarrassed by another sniffle.

“I’m home,” she whispered, feeling it for the first time, the welcome reality of it. She felt Naruto nod vigorously and she laughed a little, squeezing him tighter.

“I’m home,” she repeated.

* * *

 

Sakura’s thick heels clunked against the floor as she walked, not quite as satisfying as her stilettos but close enough. She shot off an email to her editor, checking her texts before locking her phone and stopping in front of a door. Sucking in a deep breath, she placed a bright smile on her face and slid it open, poking her head in and wiggling her fingers.

“Bonjour!” she sang. Heads swiveled and there was a beat of silence before smiles broke out and people stood, rushing to her.

“Sakura-chan!”

“You’re back!”

“My, you look so beautiful!”

She laughed, accepting hugs gratefully as she made her way through the room, stopping before a head of gray hair with her hands on her hips.

“Sensei, I can’t believe you still read that shit at school,” she scoffed.

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, eyes finally flickering over to her. His face softened at the sight of her and he set down his tell-tale orange book.

“You, of all people, should appreciate literature. It seems you’ve lost your taste and developed a potty-mouth in your years abroad. Jiraiya, support me in this,” he scolded mildly. Jiraiya held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, flashing Sakura a wink. She rolled her eyes, taking a seat on his desk and digging through her purse.

“Speaking of literature,” she muttered, pulling out an identical orange book. Kakashi’s eyes widened and she giggled as his mouth nearly fell open when she opened the cover to point at the signature in black ink.

“A little birdy got me a certain author’s number, who was a big help while I was writing my stories, so he was more than happy to do a little favor for me when I mentioned my favorite high school teacher,” she hummed, pushing the book toward Kakashi. He grasped it with trembling fingers, eyes nearly watering. She shot a wink back to Jiraiya when Kakashi wasn’t looking. The man’s massive body vibrated with amusement.

“Sakura…I always knew you were my favorite,” Kakashi whispered. Sakura laughed out loud, pushing herself off his desk and glancing around.

“Orochimaru-sensei is…” she trailed off. Asuma answered her, red pen pausing over his tests for a moment.

“The library, I believe,” he called and Sakura smiled a quick thanks, bending to ooh at a picture of his daughter he had framed on his desk.

“She got her mother’s looks I see,” Sakura cooed. She ignored Asuma’s indignant hey! and flounced out of the teacher’s lounge, making her way to the library easily enough, despite the years that had passed since she had last been to school.

She glanced out the windows at the students milling around, eating and talking in their clean uniforms. Summer vacation would be starting soon and she could see groups of girls sneaking glances at their cell phones, obviously planning beach trips and giggling together. She smiled fondly, remembering how much Ino had nagged for a beach trip and a day at the spa during their vacations. How Naruto had eagerly counted the seconds till the days he could sleep in. How Shikamaru had complained about the chores his mother would make him do.

Seeing it all, with different children, made her feel old, nearly ancient. She blinked the sudden bleariness away, entering the library and smiling kindly at the old librarian.

She peeked between shelves until she found her old teacher flipping casually through an atlas, brow furrowed.

“Still on the pursuit for knowledge, Sensei?” she asked quietly.

Without glancing upward, Orochimaru replied, “Always, Sakura, as everyone should.” His voice was the same, quiet and gentle, yet still somehow carrying.

Sakura smiled, peeking over his shoulder at the page he was looking at.

“You’re on the anatomy section right now?” she guessed, gazing at the image of the human muscular system. Orochimaru nodded.

“I like to brush up every once in a while, the muscles always eluded me.”

Sakura nodded. He closed the book, finally looking at her, taking in the sight of her with a soft smile.

“You’ve gotten thinner,” he said softly, somehow still managing to make it sound like a scold.

“Isn’t that usually a good thing, Sensei?” Sakura inquired innocently, brushing her index finger over the spines of textbooks.

“And better at evading the question,” Orochimaru observed dryly.

“I didn’t hear a question in there,” Sakura retorted.

There was a brief silence before her old teacher sighed, shoulders lowering.

“How are you doing?” he asked tentatively, eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

Sakura didn’t turn to look at him, hoping her hair hid the grimace on her lips. She’d never been a good actress or liar.

“Well enough,” she answered honestly. “I’ll have the bookstore re-opened by the end of this week. I’m pretty much done with the unpacking.”

“Have you been to the grave?”

A pause. Sakura’s eyes fell shut. Her finger stilled over a book on birds.

“No,” she admitted, softly. “Not yet.”

“She’ll forgive you,” Orochimaru hummed, placing the atlas back on the shelf. “She always understood you a little better than you did yourself.”

Sakura shrugged, tucking her hair behind her ear and turning to face him, letting the moment fall behind her like a shadow.

“I know,” she said and Orochimaru smiled at her gently.

“Now,” he continued, leading her out of the library and down the hall. “Tell me about Tokyo.”

* * *

 

Sakura’s life fell into a routine over the period of a week. Her eyes always snapped open at six in the morning, when the light outside was still dull. She dressed quickly in the dark, pausing only to rinse her face off, brush her teeth, and tie her hair up before she was out the door, headphones in and music on. She liked to do a jog all the way up to the school and back, sometimes passing other early risers and sometimes having an entire run with no human interaction. When she got back, she showered, ate a piece of toast and sucked down coffee.

After she had finished tidying up the bookstore below her apartment and getting the paperwork in order, she opened the bookstore at precisely 7:30 every morning, running the AC as much as possible and fanning herself with an old newspaper as she sat at the counter and typed half-heartedly on her laptop.

Another cup of coffee would sit beside her and she would sip at it, frowning at her computer screen. Her editor was positively clamoring for new material, but Sakura had hit a wall. The words just seemed stuck at the back of her throat all the time, not quite able to come out.

Sometimes, she looked around at the little store and tried not to remember hot days spent eating ice cream and laughing with her grandmother while Ino attempted to find every book on flowers and business known to man.

“I’m going to expand the business!” she declared nearly every day, eyes wide and so bright. Like Naruto’s, almost.

“Of course, dear,” Tsubaki would say, smiling like she genuinely believed it. “We can’t wait to see it.”

And Ino would beam like the sun.

On Thursday night, instead of her normal “watch a movie and go to bed” routine, Sakura entered Uzumaki Ramen with a pack of beer in one hand and her phone in the other, attempting not to snap at her editor for the increasingly pushy emails. How someone managed to sound so impatient with such a monotone way of writing emails, she would always be amazed by it. She really was driving her nuts and Sakura was considering sending her a sample of her latest article to shut her up. After winning the Pulitzer Prize for her last investigation, her editor had been begging to know her next project.

Problem was, Sakura herself wasn’t sure. Petty robberies and car thieves wouldn’t do it for her. But she was terrified of the lifeless eyes that haunted her nightmares.

“Sakura-chan!” Minato bellowed from behind the counter, a smile identical to his son’s nearly blinding her, even from across the room. “It’s about time you came to say hello!”

“It’s only been three days, Minato-san,” Sakura laughed, passing into the back and waving at the familiar cooks. Kushina came rushing in, enveloping Sakura in a hug before Sakura even had a chance to stutter out a greeting.

“You’re skinny,” Kushina sniffed disapprovingly. Her nose twitched and Sakura prayed she wouldn’t point out the obvious smell of cigarettes on her. It was a habit she had no doubt the Uzumaki matriarch would disapprove of. Heartily.

“No time to eat with all that writing, no doubt,” Minato chuckled, ruffling her hair and turning to his stove. The moment passed and Kushina’s face softened as she moved to help her husband. “You always were prone to working too hard, you know that, kid?”

Sakura shrugged, taking a seat on the counter beside him and watching him cook as she popped open a beer. Her feet dangled in the air, bare legs warm against the cool counter. The cold drink settled in her stomach pleasantly and she answered all of Kushina’s questions about Tokyo.

When Naruto and Sasuke came stumbling in, shoulders sagging from a long day at the station, Sakura followed them up the stairs to the apartment above the restaurant, amazed again by how little had changed. There were a few more pictures on the walls: Sasuke and Naruto graduating from the police academy, the three of them playing poker on one of her rare trips home. She gazed at that picture for a long time, marveling at the way her face glowed, whether from the beer or the smiles on the boys’ faces, she didn’t know.

Sasuke nearly startled her when he opened a beer next to her, glancing at the picture as well.

“Is that the night we were trying to teach Naruto how to play blackjack?” she asked out loud.

Sasuke cocked his head to the side, lips pursed.

“Yeah, I think so. Your hair is a lot longer now,” he replied after a beat.

Sakura hummed, reaching an absent hand to comb through her hair.

“I only trust Ino with the dramatic haircuts,” she reminded him.

Sasuke shrugged noncommittally, leading the way to the living room where Naruto had already sprawled out on the couch, arm flung over his eyes.

“Go take a shower, idiot,” Sasuke growled, shoving at him with his foot.

Naruto heaved a huge, dramatic sigh but got up nonetheless, ruffling Sakura’s hair as he moved past her. Sasuke took his place on the couch, assuming the exact same position. Sakura managed to contain her snicker.

“Don’t start drinking without me!” Naruto called. A few moments later she heard the water turning on. Shoving Sasuke’s feet off, she grabbed the remote and settled down on the couch, reaching for another beer.

“What movie tonight?” she asked, not particularly expecting a response.

“Koizora,” Sasuke answered, peeking at her from under his arm. He smirked at the surprise on her face, closing his eyes again.

“You think we forgot which shitty romance movie cheers you up?” he scoffed. Sakura pinched his thigh, to which he barely twitched, and huffed.

“I don’t need cheering up,” she muttered mutinously, taking a swig of her beer.

Sasuke actually snorted, the sound surprising Sakura so much she almost dropped her can.

“Your grandmother died while you were countries away,” Sasuke pointed out. “You live alone in her old apartment and look after her old bookstore after years of living in the big city and being a bigshot journalist. Of course you need cheering up.”

Sakura said nothing, drinking her beer in silence until Naruto jogged back in, smelling much better than he had.

“Your turn, moron,” Naruto jerked his thumb toward the bathroom. Sasuke heaved himself up, groaning.

“This job is going to make me old,” he whined.

“You’ve been old since you exited the womb, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura snarked. She hadn’t quite forgiven his observations earlier. Sasuke only sighed.

Naruto scooped up a beer, reclaiming his spot on the couch and nudging Sakura with a grin.

“He’s still as grumpy as ever, huh?”

Sakura laughed, shoving him away.

“And you’re still just as loud,” she retorted. Naruto pouted.

“Mean,” he whined.

Sakura shrugged, throwing her legs over his lap.

“Accurate,” she countered.

* * *

 

Sakura woke up the next morning with a blanket thrown over her and Naruto’s snoring nearly making the couch vibrate. Even in the dark she could make out Sasuke sprawled on his stomach right next to the couch, breathing quiet, and Naruto had somehow managed to slump over the low coffee table for the entire night. Sakura winced at the thought of his sore neck. She checked her phone, the time reading 4:16 in the morning. She sighed. Why couldn’t she wake up at a normal time, even after drinking?

She stood up, keeping the blanket wrapped around her as she grabbed a water bottle. The cold liquid helped the throbbing in her head a little bit.

She settled back down on the couch, using her phone light to make sure she didn’t wake either of the boys up. She took the time to scroll through some social media, smiling at the posts from the friends she had made. Sai had posted a snippet of his newest design, captioned, “Missing you Ugly…”

She tried not to laugh out loud as she favorited it. Sakura opened up her messaging app, typing out a quick text to him and pressing send. She locked her phone, staring up at the ceiling in the dark and wondering if sleep would find her again.

The nearly simultaneous buzzing of the boys’ phones nearly gave her a stroke. Naruto’s snore stopped mid-inhale and he jerked up with an audible snap of his neck. Sakura grimaced sympathetically.

Sasuke woke much more gracefully, grunting as his hand searched blindly for his phone.

“Cops,” Sakura muttered irritably as Sasuke answered.

There was momentary silence before suddenly Sasuke was bolting upright. Sakura frowned as Naruto’s own lively chatter quieted down and he sucked in a deep breath. They exchanged glances before they were moving in sync, Naruto throwing his phone back to the couch as he hurried down the hall to let his mother know where they’d gone.

“A case?” she asked, her journalist bones tingling.

“Yeah,” Sasuke answered, strangely hesitant. “My father has, ah, asked you to assist.”

Sakura’s fingers tightened around the blanket and she sighed.

“It’s bad?” she asked quietly. Sasuke avoided the question, ducking into the kitchen to grab some water.

“I wish he’d left you out of this,” Sasuke muttered.

“He needs all the help he can get,” Sakura murmured, shoving her feet into her sneakers. Her body was suddenly alert with a familiar adrenaline. A small town wasn’t equipped for what had to be a murder, if her help was being requested. Naruto remained quiet but his shoulders were tense and she knew he was bracing himself for the morning ahead.

“I’m going to run home and change. I’ll need boots,” she said quietly. Naruto stood.

“I’m coming with you,” he said in that authoritative way that brokered no argument. Sakura just nodded.

She changed in record time, slipping into jeans and her boots quickly and wasting no time with changing out of Naruto’s old college sweatshirt. It was a little cold anyway, since the sun wasn’t up yet, and she rushed out of the house with her backpack containing her camera, notebook, and pens. Sasuke was waiting outside with his car. The drive was silent, Sakura itching for a cigarette and a cup of coffee. Or maybe a shot of vodka would be better.

When they arrived at the field, Sakura took a moment to take in the sight of cops milling around with flashlights, people in blue jackets snapping pictures, the eerie silence of the morning broken only by early birdsong and the sounds of camera lenses.

Sakura walked between the boys, wishing desperately she could have snuck a cigarette before they left.

“Sakura,” Fugaku said, sounding inexpressibly tired. “I’m so sorry.”

Sakura couldn’t smile, instead stepping forward to give the older man a brief hug. He had more lines on his face than the last time she’d seen him, his shoulders just a little more bent. Fugaku Uchiha had always been a big man, in body and in spirit. But right now, he seemed shrunken and too small for such a big, hard world.

“It’s alright, Chief,” she murmured. “I understand.”

She drew back and watched as he issued some orders to Naruto and his son, who he spared a moment to place his rough hand on his shoulder. Sasuke clapped his hand once, briefly, before moving off to fulfill his duty as a cop.

And a son, Sakura thought.

The sun was barely beginning to rise so she pulled out a flashlight, finally turning to the two other men beside Fugaku.

“Sakura, you might recognize my eldest, Itachi. A detective now,” Fugaku introduced them. The pride in his voice was undeniable as Itachi dipped his head silently in acknowledgement. Sakura flicked her eyes over him. She hadn’t seen Sasuke’s older brother since he’d left for university their first year of high school. Irritatingly enough, he was still as beautiful as ever, despite the obvious exhaustion in his face.

“His partner, Kisame-san,” Fugaku continued, gesturing to the tall, broad man, who grinned at her, the expression out of place in the dim morning.

“I’ve been dyin’ to meet you,” Kisame admitted, holding his hand out. Sakura took it, giving him a brief shake. “I’m just sorry it’s under these circumstances.”

“Well, I’m glad I don’t have to introduce myself,” she joked lamely. Kisame chuckled slightly and there was a pause.

Finally, Sakura broke it.

“Where’s the body?”

Itachi answered this time, voice low and smooth.

“This way.”

They moved, the ground hard beneath their feet. Sakura could see Naruto and Sasuke in the distance, combing the grass for more evidence, their faces pinched with concentration. They looked so grown up. So much older.

A few yards away, there was a small section of the ground guarded by yellow tape. People in blue jackets moved around slowly, snapping pictures carefully. Sakura didn’t pause before ducking under the tape, zipping open her backpack for her own camera. She’d spent the entire car ride preparing for this. Fugaku and the detectives hung back, letting her do what she had been called to do. They watched silently.

Sakura had learned how to look without seeing. The blood didn’t bother her, nor did the torn clothes and pale skin. She took pictures carefully, moving around the body with well-placed, even steps.

She could hear Tsunade’s voice in her head, one of her many teaching moments.

_“You have to be respectful but remember. You’re doing a job. This isn’t personal. The second it becomes personal, you lose your ability to see clearly.”_

_Sakura turned tearful eyes to her, throat still burning from the vomit she had emptied into the dirty toilet in front of her. The bathroom floor was hard against her knees and she was just grateful she had managed to keep it in until they got back to the station._

_“It’s awful,” she gasped out. Her knees trembled. “She’s so young, a child. It’s awful.”_

_Tsunade’s face softened and she crouched down next to her, placing a gentle hand on her head._

_“It doesn’t get any easier. But this is what you wanted, isn’t it? This is your big break, right?”_

_Sakura swallowed, hard. The image of the girl’s eyes, open and unseeing, wouldn’t leave her._

_“I don’t know,” she sniffed, wiping a hand over her sweaty face. What she wanted? What she wanted was to go home. But she couldn’t be weak, not after begging her to teach her, to guide her. “This isn’t what I wanted.”_

_“Just remember, kid,” Tsunade said as she straightened, leaving her on the floor. “You’re not a monster for this.”_

_“I’m using a child’s death to become a famous journalist,” Sakura spat. She was angry now, with herself and Tsunade and whoever had killed an eight year old girl._

_Tsunade sighed._

_“You’re using your gift to solve a child’s death,” she amended, nearly gently. And then she left and Sakura stared at her vomit in the toilet, wondering how much of that was true. If she was really gifted, or a good person for this._

_She flushed the toilet, rinsing her face off in the sink and staring at herself for a few moments._

_She didn’t recognize her reflection._

After maybe ten minutes of pictures and tense silence, Sakura straightened, tossing her camera back in her bag before pulling out the notebook and pen.

“Do we have any information on her?” she asked. The authority came easy to her and Fugaku didn’t twitch as he answered.

“Hayashi Rika, she’s seventeen. I recognize her from the grocery store, her family owns it,” Fugaku said.

Sakura jot it down, turning back to the body to take down a few notes as well. She was posed, her arms carefully placed at her sides, the only disarray on her body her ripped, torn clothes and the blood.

“Who found the body?”

“A couple of kids,” Kisame answered her this time, hands in his pockets. “They were out here drinking, smoking a couple of cigarettes when they stumbled on her. They’re pretty freaked out.”

Sakura eyed the girl’s clothes: she was in pajamas, soft shorts and a t-shirt. There was no makeup on her face and her hair, though no doubt tangled from whatever she had been put through, hadn’t been straightened.

“Has she been reported missing?”

“Yes, her parents said she went out a couple nights ago to grab some study snacks from the convenience store and never came back. We’ve been scouring the town for her ever since. She’s a good kid and her parents were nearly hysterical, so a disappearance like that raised some alarm bells,” Kisame said. His voice suddenly sounded heavier.

“She left no trace, huh?” Sakura said, voice suddenly quieter, softer. Her hand stilled over the notebook.

“Like she vanished into thin air,” Fugaku confirmed. His voice matched hers and Sakura avoided looking at him, knowing he was thinking what she was.

“You…you’ve ordered a rape kit, I assume?”

“A full work-up,” Itachi said, finally speaking. The air was becoming thicker. The sun was finally beginning to rise, heating up the day, and Sakura rubbed a hand over her tired face.

Sakura hesitated, finally looking over at the tired men as they watched her.

“Her family?” she asked, voice nearly a whisper.

Fugaku heaved a sigh that ended in a cough. Sakura wished desperately again for a cigarette.

“Not yet,” Fugaku admitted. “We were waiting to transport the body to the mortuary first.”

Sakura nodded, sparing one more look at the girl’s body. The posing and careful washing of the girl’s face meant he hadn’t just thrown her out like trash. But the blood smeared over her exposed thighs and hands, her torn fingernails…

Sakura had to choke down the bile rising in her throat.

“Well, I got all of my pictures and notes. You can take the body now,” Sakura coughed out instead. Her hands were trembling, a headache forming between her temples. She desperately needed a cup of coffee.

Fugaku nodded to a couple of people idling off toward the side and they moved forward instantly. Sakura averted her eyes as they carefully wrapped the body, picking her way back over to the three detectives. With the light rising more, she could get a clearer look at their faces. Itachi looked positively haunted and some grim part of her wanted to smile. The idea of her being more composed than the Uchiha darling would be amusing under other circumstances.

“Itachi will give you a ride back to the station,” Fugaku sighed, deeply. “I’d like you to meet the taskforce and introduce yourself. And if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like you to talk to the parents after I tell them, see if you can get anything about her daily life. Parents respond better to women.”

Sakura nodded blankly. She turned to Itachi, reaching back to pull her hair out of its messy ponytail.

“Any way we can stop by my apartment so I can change into something that won’t give me heat stroke?”

Itachi nearly quirked a smile while Kisame actually grinned. She could feel the tension shiver.

“Not a problem,” Itachi answered.

The sun was above the horizon. Sakura stared at it hatefully as the buildings passed by in the back seat of Itachi’s car.

Old ghosts always come back to haunt.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos, they mean so much to me! I hope you keep reading and I hope I can keep you intrigued.

“Sakura!”

A head of pink hair whipped toward the source of the call, short strands flying around a young face. Sakura pouted, dragging her feet back up the street to where her mother waited for her outside the bookstore, hands on her hips. Despite her frilly pink apron and wooden cooking spoon, the older woman still cut an intimidating figure. Sakura stood in front of her mother with her head bowed. Her mother smelled like spices and Sakura’s stomach growled at the aroma.

“You know about the curfew,” her mother began, sternly. Sakura jerked her head in a reluctant nod. She scuffed her green sneakers against the concrete, refusing to raise her eyes. Her mother let out a deep sigh.

The street was deserted, a rare sight so early in the evening. The sun had yet to fully set. Children usually roamed freely at this time, shrieking as they raced by on bikes, laughing as their fingers grew sticky with the snacks bought from the store. Sakura was a common sight at this time of day, never without her two boys bouncing around her, arguing about this and that. Her scraped knees always missing the band-aids her mother so carefully placed each morning.

“Sakura, this curfew is for your safety,” her mother said at last. She sounded tired and Sakura felt a pang of guilt. The adults were all so stressed lately. Her teachers never took their eyes off of her classmates, and parents lined the sidewalk at the end of the school day to walk children home now, even those that worked. She was pretty sure it had to do with Chiharu and Tsukiko being absent so much. She hadn’t seen them in a month.

Still, a sense of righteous injustice bubbled in her at the confinement. She hadn’t gotten any bad grades in school and she hadn’t gotten into any trouble, so why should she be punished?

“But Mom, I’m ten years old now! Why can’t I go play with Naruto? You let me do it all the time!”

There was a beat of silence and Sakura raised her eyes carefully, surprised to find her mother looking at her with a small smile on her face instead of a frown.

“Oh, darling,” her mother sighed, bending down until they were eye level, placing a gentle hand on Sakura’s head. “I know you want to play with your friends. But you can’t for a little while, at least not when the sun starts to go down. You didn’t do anything wrong, your father and I just love you very much, understand?”

Sakura sniffed, glaring at a point just above her mother’s shoulder.

“If you loved me, you’d let me play with Naruto,” she grumbled. It was a half-hearted attempt. Her mother laughed, shooing her daughter back inside.

“You’ll understand when you get a little older.”

* * *

 

Sakura jerked to reality with a start, eyes focusing back on the ring she was staring at, the one that hardly ever left her right ring finger. The memory from years ago had come unbidden, the smell of her mother’s cooking still so strong in her mind she could almost smell it in Itachi’s car.

“I haven’t seen you since you got home,” Itachi broke the silence. Kisame jerked awake from where he had been pretending he wasn’t dozing in the passenger seat. Sakura met Itachi’s eyes in his rearview mirror briefly before turning her gaze back to the town passing by.

“I haven’t been home long,” she murmured. They didn’t talk again the rest of the car ride.

* * *

She stretched her arms above her with a sigh and grimaced when her shoulder popped. A cup of steaming coffee was placed in front of her and she mumbled her thanks, taking a sip despite the fact the liquid was still scalding.

“This coffee is shit,” she whined, slumping forward once more. Shitty coffee to top off a shitty morning was exactly what she needed.

Kisame snorted his agreement from beside her.

“The chief refuses to get a new coffee machine,” he informed her with a sidelong glance at Fugaku’s closed door, like he could hear him. “Calls it an ‘unnecessary expense’.” He mimicked the chief’s deeper, slow voice with startling accuracy. Sakura nearly cracked a smile.

“I’ll buy one my damn self,” she growled. “I’m gonna be spending too much time here anyway.”

A dull thud on the desk in front of her sent her flying back in her seat, nearly tilting her chair over until Kisame grabbed it and steadied it for her.

“You couldn’t have set the boxes down gently?” the detective asked dryly.

Itachi feigned innocence. Sakura scowled at him until he at last smiled somewhat apologetically.

“Did I wake you, Haruno-san?” he asked sweetly. She hated how the Uchiha brothers were both such attractive assholes. Why couldn’t God have made her life easier and made them ugly, or at least stupid?

Sakura rolled her eyes, brushing the hair out of her face impatiently as she attempted another sip of the coffee. And promptly had to convince herself not to spit it right back in the cup.

“You’ve known me since I was a toddler, Itachi-san. Do you really need to call me that?”

His head tilted to the side as he thought carefully.

“Sakura-san?” he tried. Sakura considered it briefly before nodding. It was better than nothing.

“It feels strange since we haven’t seen each other in what, five years?” he added, trying to measure the time correctly. Sakura tilted her head to the side as she considered it.

“More like seven years, wouldn’t it be? You graduated my first year of high school, and I was in Tokyo for five years…”

“You came home a couple of times,” he pointed out and Sakura frowned as she tried to remember when her last trip home had been. The trips had been few and far in between as she had chased her dreams and tried to leave the small town behind.

“You two have been friends that long?” Kisame asked, sounding surprised.

Sakura shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her as she searched for Naruto’s distinctive head of gold hair in the crowded room. Wherever he was, Sasuke wasn’t too far behind.

“His little brother and I,” she corrected. “Sasuke-kun and I are in the same year and pulling Naruto’s dumb ass out of trouble was a two-man job, so here we are.”

She found the two of them, poring over a map of the town someone had erected on a blank wall. Naruto was pointing at a spot and explaining something rapidly while Sasuke frowned in thought. If she looked hard enough, she was convinced she’d see the kids they used to be.

“I’m shocked you don’t consider me a friend, Sakura-san,” Itachi interrupted her thoughts, dark eyes glinting.

Sakura smirked.

“You can’t even remember the last time we met, Itachi-san. My heart is broken,” she sniffed. He fought a smile and she knew she’d won.

She glared at the cup of coffee balefully for five more seconds before pulling her phone out and typing out a message.

“Want some decent coffee, Kisame?” she asked.

Kisame nodded eagerly, listing his order off with glee. She glanced at Itachi, who shook his head, rather disapprovingly.

“I prefer tea,” he informed her as he took a seat, pushing one of the boxes over to Kisame’s desk. Their desks faced each other, so all they had to do was lean around their computers to speak to each other. Sakura had pulled up a chair by Kisame to rest her eyes as the chief spoke to the girl’s parents. Itachi had gone to fetch evidence from an old case, one she remembered well from her childhood.

Her nose wrinkled as she watched them open the boxes carefully, just two of them, and neither very heavy. The case had never been solved, and a huge reason had been lack of evidence. Sakura knew the killings had been hard on Fugaku, the leading detective on the case at the time. The former chief had retired because of it.

She sent the message. Sakura twisted the ring on her finger as Kisame skimmed old reports and Itachi frowned at a pair of shoes that had been bagged.

“Do you think it’s a copy-cat?” Kisame asked. It took Sakura a moment to realize he was talking to her. She blinked at him blankly.

“Why ask me?” she shot back. Kisame didn’t seem surprised by the question. He shrugged, considering her carefully.

“Itachi might have a clearer memory of the murders that happened fifteen years ago, since he was older than you. But kids absorb a lot of emotions and energy without anyone ever realizing it. You would’ve been what, ten? Eleven maybe? You probably remember more than anyone thinks. Not to mention, I don’t doubt you’ve read every article ever written on it, since you’re a journalist and all.”

Sakura hummed thoughtfully as she digested what he’d said. He had a few rather solid points. She had practically memorized every detail of the previous murders, had spent months poring obsessively over every single piece of writing on it she could find. She had scoured the internet for old records, old reports, anything the police may have released to the public. The time in her childhood had always felt fuzzy to her. Her parents had died four months after the killings had started.

But reading and researching had sharpened her memories. Or rather, her feelings. She remembered the fear that had haunted her small town. How her mother had stopped letting her play outside when it got dark, something that had never been a problem before. How her father had walked her home every day after school, taking time off work to do so.

And she remembered a few of her classmates suddenly being gone. The teachers hadn’t liked to talk about them, other than to say they had been bright kids and encourage their students to remember them happily. Sakura knew all of their parents had moved away eventually.

She guessed in some way, she had hoped she could solve the murders. A pipe dream, of course, as most dreams were. But a dream nontheless.

The body of the new girl came to mind and she compared it with the photos she had managed to get her hands on of the children from her childhood.

“No,” she said, after a few moments. Something in her gut lurched. She felt vaguely nauseous as she tried to stop thinking about Rika’s dead body. “No, I don’t think it’s a copy-cat.”

Twenty minutes later Hinata dropped off the coffee Sakura had requested, brushing off their fervent thanks as she handed out bentos to the officers who had been at the scene. Naruto could hardly contain his enthusiasm, torn between wolfing down his food and kissing his fiancée.

Sakura sent her off with a hug and a kiss, promising lunch the next day to catch up. Hinata looked worried, wringing her hands like she had in high school. A nervous tic Sakura doubted would every fully go away.

“Be careful, Sakura,” she murmured.

Sakura forced a smile, squeezing her friend’s hand. She felt Hinata’s hands still beneath her touch.

“Don’t worry about me.”

With the coffee, Sakura felt her will to live slowly return. She made copies and scribbled notes on old autopsies as Kisame and Itachi reviewed all of the old evidence. She rubbed her eyes tiredly, making a mental note to fish out her old journals from her research on the old case. They were in a box somewhere in her office, no doubt.

The door to Fugaku’s office opened after an hour. He exited, looking a hundred years older than when he went in. Sakura could hear Rika’s parents sobbing before Fugaku closed the door gently. He gestured her over and Sakura hurried forward, nearly spilling her coffee in her haste. She could have sworn she heard Kisame snicker.

“Take tissues and water bottles. Be slow and careful. It won’t hurt to let them know you grew up here,” Fugaku instructed her, rather needlessly. The tissues and water bottles were already clutched in her hands and she smiled humorlessly at the police chief.

“I know the drill, Chief.”

* * *

 

Rika’s parents didn’t know anything useful. They were a newer family, having moved to Konoha just a few years before. Rika sounded like a rather normal teenage girl. She was an excellent student, well-behaved in school. She went out with friends and was always home for dinner.

When Sakura reported this to Fugaku, he rubbed a hand over his tired face.

“She reminds me of myself at that age,” Sakura admitted quietly after a moment. A good student with an average, nearly boring life. Fugaku looked at her, eyes suddenly becoming gentle.

“Your grandmother was very proud of you. And so were your parents,” he said. She blinked back tears, clearing her throat as she stood.

“I hope so.”

* * *

The briefing was short and to the point. Chief Fugaku had never been a man of many words. Sakura introduced herself, rather unnecessarily as the cops all shouted greetings and ‘welcome back’s. She waved off the jokes and rolled her eyes at Naruto’s hooting before she sat back down. They quieted down quickly as Fugaku cleared his throat, leveling his team with an even, stern stare.

“Having him as a father must have been fun,” she murmured to Itachi, who sat to her right.

“My mother is even sharper than him,” Itachi whispered back just as quietly.

Sakura shivered. She had no doubt Mikoto was a force of nature all on her own.

“We discovered this note in the victim’s pocket,” Fugaku’s voice snapped her back to attention as a murmur rippled through the crowd. Sakura squinted at the note being projected on the screen, scanning the words carefully and jotting notes down in her notebook.

Even the most elusive prey can be caught.

It was typed. Not signed, on standard copy paper in standard black ink. Folded perfectly into a neat square. Sakura frowned at it, something tickling at her brain. The words caught at her eyes, somehow loud and jarring, like they were jumping up and down for her attention.

“And, we’ve never released this detail to the public, but it matches notes found on victims from a similar murder case 15 years ago.”

Shock tingled up her spine. Other notes were splashed across the screens, all saying vague facts, almost pieces of wisdom if they weren’t so morbid.

Kisame grunted, shifting in his seat.

“So it’s definitely the same killer,” he called out.

Fugaku frowned thoughtfully.

“It could also be someone who knew the previous killer,” he pointed out. Kisame nodded and Sakura turned the situation around in her head, picking at different scenarios.

Her hand moved furiously across her notebook page, scribbling out questions and crossing out others at an alarming speed as she thought, brow creased in concentration. She could feel Itachi watching her with interest, or perhaps fascination. Her thought process was rather frenzied, she knew, but it worked. Usually.

“That’s all the evidence. Sakura-san will be assisting Detectives Uchiha and Hoshigaki on this case due to her experience with…well, with these cases. I don’t need to tell anyone in this room how important this case is.”

The room was silent. Sakura glanced around, feeling something in her chest coil tightly. Most of the faces were familiar ones, people she had grown up with. She had no doubt that a majority of the cops in Konoha probably remembered the case from fifteen years ago. With perfect clarity.

She exchanged a quiet look with Itachi as they exited the room. She wondered how much was about to change.

* * *

The incessant buzzing of her phone took a few moments to register. Sakura’s arm shot out from beneath the covers on her bed, slapping her nightstand and knocking over empty beer cans until she found the source of the irritating noise.

She opened one eye carefully, groaning at the name flashing across her screen.

“Ino,” she growled as she answered the call.

Ino was entirely unapologetic, as per usual.

“You promised Hinata and I lunch today,” her friend accused immediately. Sakura could imagine her, in her coarse work apron, hands on her hips as she scolded her best friend at eight in the morning.

“Lunch is in like five hours,” Sakura sighed. She rolled onto her back, kicking the covers off of her and leaving her legs bare. Her ceiling fan spun with nearly startling intensity as it attempted to ward off the heat already building. The room was dim and cool and quiet aside from Ino’s squawking. Sakura sighed again.

“We both know you can sleep all day if we let you so I’m just making sure you wake up and remember our date!”

“Well, I remember, now can I please go back to sleep?”

Ino huffed.

“Fine, but if you don’t show up, I will come to your house and murder you with these damn geraniums. Don’t forget, I have a key.”

Sakura couldn’t help the short laugh that left her.

“Deal.”

After Ino’s call, sleep was impossible to find again. Sakura stared at her ceiling, thoughts drifting.

The news of the murder had broken and chaos had descended on the little town once more in just one short day. Sakura did not envy Fugaku, or even Itachi and Kisame. They had been drowned by concerned, frightened parents, demanding answers they didn’t have yet.

Sakura knew it wouldn’t be long until her editor was calling her from Tokyo, clamoring for details. Journalists from all over would catch wind before too long. And, God forbid, if there was another victim, they would start travelling to Konoha themselves. The old case was still a subject of fascination and for years Konoha had struggled with the infamy it had been associated with. To learn of a new murder in the same small town, so many years later. Not to mention that the victim had been a young, smart, beautiful girl.

It was like crack for people like her.

Sakura sat up reluctantly, running a hand through her hair. She groaned as she tied it up hastily, wincing as she unwittingly pulled on it. Her head pounded and her mouth felt dry, no doubt a reminder of the beer she had chugged the night before to force her body to sleep. Coffee was necessary for mornings like these.

She got the machine running before she stepped outside, lit cigarette in hand. She took slow, lazy drags as a warm breeze rustled her robe. The morning was quiet, even by Konoha standards. In the distance, Sakura could see the empty school. Summer break had started but kids slept in and she had no doubt parents were having frantic, whispered discussions on what to do. She watched the smoke disappear from her lips disinterestedly.

Tokyo was never like this. Never this quiet. There was always sound: alarms, cars, people. Sometimes, she had liked it. It had made her feel less lonely. But she had missed Konoha’s quiet, too.

The familiar ding of her coffee machine sounded and she stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. As she sucked down her coffee, she glanced over her notes from the previous day. Her notebook and various folders were strewn across the coffee table. Her gaze lingered on the note left in the poor girl’s pocket. Something about it bothered her. It seemed almost sloppy for such an organized killer. Notes were so easily traceable. And yet…

She was jolted from her thoughts by her phone buzzing where it sat on the counter. A text instead of a call this time. Opening up her messages, she scanned the text from Itachi with some degree of surprise. He struck her more as a phone call kind of person. But at the same time, she wasn’t at all surprised he was a morning person.

_What time will you be at the station today?_

She hummed as she thought. Lunch would take at least an hour, and she would need time to get to the station.

_maybe around 3?_

The reply was nearly instant.

_I can pick you up._

She raised an eyebrow. Itachi didn’t seem like an overly helpful person, despite his profession. If her memory was correct, the Uchiha’s lived in the opposite direction of her little bookstore, and the police station was a little bit further. Still, she thought, finishing off her coffee and pouring herself another cup. It would be nice not to walk. Especially in the midday heat.

She considered it for a few more moments before typing out a message.

_bring coffee_

She could imagine the way he was shaking his head.

* * *

“Okay Hinata, enough procrastinating, we need to talk colors!” Ino growled. Her focus was laser sharp, teal eyes unwavering as Hinata squirmed ever so slightly in her seat.

“Calm down, pig, you’re making her nervous,” Sakura chided. She tapped out a message to her editor before she set her phone down. She eyed Hinata over her white sunglasses, red mouth pursed thoughtfully.

“Although, I will have to kill you if you put me in anything even vaguely metallic,” she added as an afterthought.

The little café they had chosen for lunch was relatively newer, and small. But it was cozy and the coffee was delicious. Their little patio was clean and despite the heat, the shade meant it was a bearable temperature for them to enjoy their drinks and sandwiches.

“Well, I was thinking lavender…” Hinata trailed off as Ino’s eyes widened and Sakura whipped her sunglasses off, setting them down on the table with force.

“Genius,” Ino whispered.

“Probably the one color both of us will look good in,” Sakura confirmed.

Hinata’s expression brightened. “For the cut, I’m going to let you two decide on it and we’ll have the dresses tailored to your measurements and specifications,” she elaborated, opening up the baby blue wedding planner Kushina had gifted her. Sakura breathed a sigh of relief. Ino and her had such different figures, finding one style that suited them both would’ve been near impossible.

“Ino-chan has been helpful with the flowers and their arrangements, but the problem of food still stands,” she continued, frowning at the planner. Sakura craned her neck to see the catering options she had listed in pencil, all with notes on them with her father and Naruto’s opinions.

“Naruto is adamant on ramen but I don’t want that to be the only option. My father wants traditional food, of course. But I like the idea of warm food, since it’ll be a winter wedding.”

Sakura tapped her chin, sipping at her latte as she thought. She stared at the stain her lips left on the cup, resisting the urge to swipe her thumb across it. Ino was similarly lost in thought, brow furrowed as she contemplated the question all of them had for months now.

“Have small finger sandwiches for the guests as they arrive,” Sakura suggested. Classy, and it would keep the guests from starving during the ceremony. “Then, what about hotpot for the reception? Plenty of meat and tofu for different diets, and you can serve ramen and udon as well. Followed by cake, of course, and coffee once the party starts to wind down.”

Hinata’s expression brightened.

“That might work,” she murmured, scribbling some ideas down. “I’m not sure if hotpot is exactly suited for my father, but he’ll like the finger sandwich idea.”

“He can’t win on everything,” Ino pointed out. Hinata sighed her agreement.

There was a beat of silence. Sakura watched two teenagers on a date share a smoothie inside the café, giggling at some video on a phone. Their heads nearly touched as they leaned toward each other. She wondered if they had been close to Rika. She wondered if they had even known her.

“Earth to Forehead,” Ino called, waving a hand in front of Sakura’s face. She blinked back to reality, startled.

“Sorry, what?”

Ino looked at her with sympathy, pushing the last of her sandwich toward her.

“I heard the station was crazy yesterday after they found that poor girl,” Ino commented softly.

Sakura blew out a breath, finishing off her coffee.

“The town is scared,” Sakura answered. Her voice wasn’t as even as she’d thought it’d be. _I’m scared._

“I heard Itachi is the leading detective on the case,” Ino continued, voice purposefully nonchalant even as her eyes pierced her best friend. Sakura nearly smiled. The gloom of the topic fell away like petals from a flower. It was Ino’s special gift, to bring the sun back.

“And his partner,” Sakura hummed, refusing to fall for the bait. She glanced at the time, opening her sunglasses back up and perching them on top of her head. She refused eye contact with Ino as she casually swiped through her phone, checking her reflection to make sure that her lipstick hadn’t smeard.

Somehow, though, it was enough for Ino.

“Still as handsome as you remember, right?” Her eyes glittered and she reminded Sakura of a cat with its eyes on a piece of prey. Hinata giggled, covering the sound by sipping at her water.

“And still an Uchiha,” Sakura retorted.

Hinata and Ino stared at her in confusion. She smirked, flicking her eyes to their faces and back to her phone.

“A know-it-all bastard with too much good hair,” she elaborated.

Ino didn’t stop laughing for five minutes.

* * *

“Are you a serial killer?”

Itachi blinked, once, then twice. His outstretched hand holding a tall cup of iced coffee didn’t waver even as he stared at her blankly. Sakura took the coffee, plucking it from his fingers and taking a long sip. She had been outside all of two minutes and the heat was already making her sunglasses slide down her nose. She eyed Itachi enviously. He was leaned against his car in a button up and slacks, and still managed to look the picture of nonchalance.

“Your car,” she elaborated after realizing the detective was still nonplussed. “Every detective’s car I’ve ever ridden in has been, if not filthy, at least messy.”

She gestured toward the vehicle, a relatively recent model that looked like it had never seen a speck of dust since Itachi had driven it out of the dealership. The interior, leather seats of course, was absolutely spotless. Sakura was terrified of the possibility she might spill something in it. The car was the definition of immaculate.

“I like things neat,” Itachi answered after a second. He straightened, opening the passenger side door for her. She glanced at him, one eye brow raised as she stepped into it.

“I know some very good therapists who can help with that,” she informed him.

She was pretty sure she saw his lips twitch before he shut the door.

Kisame looked about as tired as Sakura felt underneath the makeup. She took one look at him and forced a smile, sashaying her hips as she pranced up to his desk. Officers called greetings and she waved back, shooting them bright smiles and laughs. She knew the boys were sleeping after staying even later than she had last night. Her heels made dull thuds against the carpeted ground but Kisame didn’t look up until she dropped into the chair beside him.

“Staring at the report won’t change what it says,” she said, softly. It would sound like a joke if Kisame hadn’t seen the way her eyes tightened, and the corners of her red mouth pulled down.

“It’s only been a day and I feel like I’m goin’ crazy,” Kisame confided. His broad shoulders sloped forward.

Sakura sighed, remembering her coffee table covered in autopsies and pictures of dead girls.

“Me, too.”

She took another look at the despair on Kisame’s face. She clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“At the very least, we’ll go crazy together,” she continued solemnly.

Kisame snorted. His body relaxed ever so slightly and he leaned back in his chair, grinning at her.

“I have a feeling you already were a bit crazy, Pinkie. Who the hell volunteers to write about dead people in their free time?”

* * *

“Okay so, the question is the same as it was two hours ago, and yesterday for that matter: copy-cat, or same perp?” Sakura sighed.

Itachi and Kisame groaned.

“I think it’s the same guy,” Kisame asserted for the fifth time in as many minutes.

“But think about how much time has passed,” Itachi argued. Both had their jackets off and ties loosened, and Sakura had abandoned her heels long ago, bare feet perched on another chair. They had claimed an interrogation room for the investigation hours ago. Maps of the town had been pinned to the walls and a huge whiteboard had been dug out of the basement. It was covered in scrawled notes and shitty doodles, courtesy of Kisame.

“Fifteen years is a long time. The police always thought the guy had to be at least thirty-five years old. That would make him fifty now.”

“I can do math, Itachi,” Kisame answered dryly. “But teenage girls aren’t very difficult to overpower, especially if a fifty-year old man is bigger than them and in relatively good shape. And those notes could only have been done by the same perp.”

“Or a copy-cat who knew the original guy,” Sakura threw in. Kisame tossed her a dirty look and she raised her hands defenselessly.

“Look, we need to consider every angle. I agree that the notes are solid evidence for Kisame’s point but I think you guys are missing an even bigger thought.”

Both men blinked at her blankly. She sighed, rising to her feet and padding barefooted over to the whiteboard.

“What’s the population of Konoha, gentlemen?” she asked, her back to them.

Itachi answered instantly.

“Around five thousand, according to the most recent census.”

She turned to face them, pointing at the map of the town they had set up on the other side of the room.

“And what is Konoha surrounded by?”

“Urban areas, mostly farms. And the ocean to the east,” Kisame answered this time, slowly as he tried to puzzle out where she was going with her points.

“Now, if we try to go about this using the copy-cat angle, what we need to consider is the statistics,” she said. Their expressions began to clear as she continued. “Two serial killers with the same tastes in victims and the same MO’s meeting in a city like Tokyo is rare enough. For it to happen in a small town like Konoha is nearly unheard of.”

Itachi frowned. She could seem him picking at her argument, puzzling it apart and considering all of its angles. Kisame looked nearly triumphant.

“We’ve gotta ask if Konoha is really that unlucky. And if it is, the implications are astronomical,” Sakura said. Her head ached just thinking about it. “Why did the first perp stop killing? And if it’s the same guy, why start again? What’s the trigger, what’s the motive?”

“And if it’s a copy-cat, why start now is still a question,” Itachi murmured.

Sakura hummed her agreement, walking across the room to grab her phone, opening up her contacts and scrolling until she found the right one. She wanted a cigarette so bad she could almost taste it.

“I have a friend who can help, I think,” she informed them, putting the phone up to her ear. Kisame opened his mouth to ask a question, then closed it. In the almost 48 hours he had known her, he had come to learn that asking Sakura questions was nearly always fruitless. She’d give you the answer when she was ready.

“Sensei, I need some advice,” she said as soon as a voice answered her. Whatever the other person said, she smiled at it.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I moved a couple of times and work has been keeping me busy but here's that update. It's barely edited so please excuse the many mistakes littered throughout it. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, the support is incredible. Please let me know what you think!

“I had no idea Kurenai-sensei started teaching here,” Kisame murmured, staring up at the white building with his hands on his hips. Sakura hummed around her cigarette, typing out a text to a friend in Tokyo with her other hand and scanning her emails. She could feel Itachi’s disapproving eyes on her and she flicked her gaze to him, raising one eyebrow. She took the cigarette from her mouth and held it between her fingers, jutting a hip out as she met his dark eyes.

“Glaring at me won’t make me quit,” she informed him. She took another drag and watched his nose wrinkle the slightest bit.

The Uchiha men were so predictable in some ways. It had come as no surprise that the dark-haired detective hated cigarettes. In fact, he absolutely abhorred them. Sakura had been about ready to defend her pack against him before Kisame told him to lighten up and get in the car.

“Not in my car,” he had said and she had sighed but stubbed out the basically brand new cigarette compliantly enough.

Now, he turned his head away without saying anything. It was almost a pout. Sakura smirked at the thought.

“Kurenai-sensei was offered the job at the college I think a couple years after I graduated. It’s pretty recent,” she informed Kisame. She breathed out the last of her cigarette before stubbing it out. She made her way up the stone steps toward the wide double doors. “She helped me out with a couple of my articles and investigations. She wrote her dissertation on psychopaths versus sociopaths, and she has a pretty keen interest in serial cases. Like the old one.”

She opened the glass doors to the building, turning left and scanning the plaques outside the doors until she found the right one. Kisame and Itachi trailed behind her quietly.

Sakura rapped on the door quickly and waited for a response before pushing in, flashing the black-haired woman behind the desk a bright smile.

“Sensei,” she greeted warmly.

Kurenai stood, coming around her desk to wrap Sakura in a hug.

“Asuma told me you were back in town but I didn’t have a chance to reach out before it happened,” Kurenia exclaimed. Her voice was the same, still smooth as honey and deep. Kurenai had a mellow voice that had managed to soothe and interest Sakura all at once in high school. Her classes had been relaxing, but fun. Always fascinating.

“I’m guessing you remember Itachi and his partner, Kisame-san,” Sakura stepped back to introduce the two men, who waved hesitantly at their old teacher. Kurenai raised an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest.

“I know this one gave me too much trouble,” she accused, pointing a finger at a bashful Kisame. Sakura snickered.

“And I know this one always had heartbroken girls trailing after him. They were a nuisance to keep out of my classroom,” Kurenia continued, moving her finger to Itachi, who had gone a curious shade of red.

Sakura laughed.

“But I was an angel, right?” she quipped as she took a seat. The men remained standing, their postures just a tad too stiff.

“Absolutely. My best student,” Kurenai praised. She sat back down. Sakura ran an eye over the papers scattered across her old teacher’s desk. She recognized the reports about the newest murder that she had emailed the day before. They were covered in sticky notes and writing made in a red pen.

“I’m sorry to bother you with this,” Sakura began but Kurenai interrupted her with an impatient wave of her hand.

“Nonsense, I would have bugged Uchiha-san into letting me see the reports either way,” Kurenai said. She plucked one of the papers from the pile, the autopsy report.

“It’s interesting that none of these victims are sexually assaulted, in the old case and new one,” Kurenai began, frowning a little.

“There’s been speculation that the act of strangulation takes the place of a sexual act,” Sakura answered immediately, leaning forward. “I agree with that, of course, and I think it’s a compelling point when considering whether or not there’s a copycat.”

Kurenai nodded, shuffling the other papers and pointing to one of her sticky notes.

“The victims have all been around the same age and same physical type. The only exception to this is the young boy who was killed fifteen years ago.”

Kisame cleared his throat and Sakura blinked. She had almost completely forgotten the two detectives were even in the room.

“If I may, Sensei, I have a theory to that,” he began, a little nervously, like he was a boy in her schoolroom again.

Itachi looked surprised, an eyebrow raised as he waited for his partner to continue his thought.

“I think the male victim was an experiment,” Kisame said. “He was the second victim and after him, only girls have been killed. I feel like the killer was young and inexperienced and was experimenting with…well, his preferences.”

Sakura grinned.

“Looks like you’ve got some brains after all,” she teased and Kisame rolled his eyes, smirking.

“Itachi is gonna have to play catch up,” Kisame snickered proudly.

Sakura tried hard not to burst out laughing at the sour look on Itachi’s face at that. Kurenai was scribbling something down on yet another sticky note when Sakura turned back to face her.

“I think you should talk to my colleague,” Kurenai informed them. “In my opinion, it’s the same killer. Everything is just too similar but, unfortunately, this is one of those cases that will take another murder to really solidify my opinion on that. My colleague may be able to give you better insight.”

Sakura sighed.

“That’s what I think too,” she admitted quietly. She took the note from her old teacher’s outstretched hand, glancing over the room number on it.

“That’s his office. He should be free right now, if you want to stop by on your way out.”

Sakura thanked her, standing and slinging her purse back over her shoulder. She folded the stack of papers Kurenai handed her neatly, the pages littered with her notes, and placed them in her bag. After promising a coffee date soon to catch up, they left, following Kurenai’s directions to her colleague’s office.

After a sharp rap and a quiet response, Sakura poked her head in, smiling broadly at the young man sitting behind the wide wood desk. She strode forward, holding her hand out in greeting.

“Doctor Yakushi? I’m –”

“Haruno-san, I’m very pleased to meet you.”

He stood, gripping her hand in a firm handshake, dark eyes gleaming in a way that nearly unsettled her. Sakura’s smile wavered and she blinked warily.

“Kurenai-san informed me you would probably be paying me a visit today,” he explained, gesturing toward the three chairs in front of his desk before taking a seat again. Sakura settled into the middle, the men taking seats on either side of her.

“Ah, I see. Kurenai-sensei should’ve been a politician in another life,” Sakura said lightly, crossing one leg over the other.

Doctor Yakushi laughed. His gray hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and his wide, circular glasses gave him the appearance of a rather clever owl.

“And please, call me Kabuto. Doctor Yakushi makes me sound so boorish.”

Sakura stretched her mouth into a thin smile.

“Of course, Kabuto-san.”

After the introductions and some pleasantries were exchanged, Kabuto cleared his throat and placed his palms facing down on his desk. He gave Sakura an easy smile that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand.

“You probably want to know what qualifies me for Kurenai’s recommendation.”

It wasn’t a question. Sakura inclined her head. She leaned back, settling in for an explanation while Kabuto gathered his thoughts. To her right, Itachi readjusted, tightly interlaced fingers completely still except for the occasional twitch of his thumb. A nervous tic she recognized from Sasuke.

Taking off his glasses, he polished them briefly with a tissue on his desk.

“I got my degree in psychology, as you’ve probably guessed already. But my dissertation, and specialty, was and is serial killers. More specifically, it’s spree killers who have long dormant periods before they suddenly resume their killing in a flurry of activity. You’re wondering if the new killer is a copy-cat, yes? I had a pretty clear instinct when I first heard the news, while I was getting my morning coffee. I can tell you, just from the few offhand facts I’ve gleaned since then from the news, it’s not.”

Sakura eyed Kabuto as he continued, describing his reasons for his belief and explaining why serial and spree killers often go dormant, something that contradicted common belief. Itachi and Kisame leaned forward, absorbing his words carefully.

Her gaze flickered over his clothes to his smooth, impassive face. His eyes were gleaming again as he talked, hands moving through the air with slow, smooth motions. If she had to put him at an age, she would guess late thirties, maybe. Something about his unblemished face and clearly fit body belied any guesses toward his actual age.

“How long since you earned your degree?” Sakura asked abruptly, nearly interrupting Kabuto’s answer to some question Kisame had posed.

“Fourteen years, why?”

If Kabuto was confused by the question, he didn’t show it. Sakura blinked rapidly.

“I’m sorry but that would make you at least…”

“Forty-five,” Kisame finished, eyes wide.

Kabuto nearly smirked.

“Yes, that is the most common reaction I receive when people learn I’m not the age they imagined. I have my mother’s genes and perpetual status as a bachelor to blame for my young looks, I’m afraid.”

Sakura forced a nervous laugh.

“Where did you grow up, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Konoha, actually,” Kabuto replied, leaning his chin on the tops of his hands. His dark eyes took on a faraway look.

“I attended this college for my bachelor’s. I was pursuing my PhD when the original murders occurred.”

“Where did you complete your education, if I may ask?” Itachi spoke up for the first time since his introduction. Sakura tried not to show the way her spine stiffened. So Itachi was on the same page as her. She wasn’t sure about Kisame, but he was also a better actor than either of them…

“Tokyo University,” Kabuto answered easily.

There was a brief beat of silence before Sakura allowed a languid smile to stretch across her face.

“Thank you for everything, Kabuto-san. I hope you’ll allow me to email you if I have any further questions concerning the case. The local police department is a little out of its depth, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

As she spoke, she stood, the men quickly following suit. She dug her heel into Itachi’s foot as he opened his mouth to protest her comments about his father’s police department.

Kisame, wisely, kept his peace.

The gleam was back in Kabuto’s eyes as he stood as well, extending his hand to say goodbye.

“On the contrary, I would be delighted if you would contact me with any questions or information regarding the case. I’m sure you can understand the fascination.”

Her only response was a tight smile.

* * *

 The car ride home was silent but for the scribbling of Sakura’s pen and the occasional snore from Kisame. She hurriedly wrote down and calculated the numbers Kabuto had given them concerning his career.

If he’s forty-five and grew up in Konoha…but the years don’t match up.

She frowned, nibbling on the cap of her pen. A simple solution rose in her mind, a situation she didn’t want to consider, but should.

Unless he’s lying.

When her eyes met Itachi’s in the rearview window, she could tell immediately he was thinking the same as her.

* * *

 “Ino, why are you forcing me to dress up to see people I’ve known since we were all peeing our pants as five-year olds?”

Ino sniffed distastefully at a red leather skirt, tossing it into her “reject” pile. She was sitting cross legged on Sakura’s bed, digging through a pile of clothes she had taken from both her own closet and Sakura’s.

“Sakura, it won’t hurt to put in some effort. You haven’t seen them in years, namely the ever-charming Kiba.”

Sakura scowled, crossing her arms across her chest.

“What does Kiba have to do with this?”

Ino didn’t even deign to respond to that with more than a pointed look and an eyeroll.

“You know, he didn’t shut up about you for the five years you were gone. You could’ve given him a call. Or tried to see him on one of your visits.”

Sakura toyed with the lace on one of her dresses idly. Ino may be right. Kiba had always been a decent guy, if a bit crass and loud. Like Naruto. But they hadn’t used each other, that last summer together. She still remembered their last day together, laying side by side in his narrow bed, sweat tickling her neck.

_“So.”_

_She tried not to giggle._

_“So?”_

_“What’re we going to do, when you leave?” he blurted out. His cheeks reddened, and he averted his gaze. The smile faded from her face and she flopped back onto his pillows. Only a thin sheet covered her modesty but that didn’t matter. Kiba had seen her naked too many times to care anymore._

_“Kiba,” she sighed. Her forearm rested across her eyes, a pitiful attempt to avoid looking him in the eyes._

_“I’m…I’m not saying I want to date you,” he sputtered out. She felt hope rise in her chest. “But we’ll still be friends, right? You won’t disappear and let things get weird between us?”_

_Sakura grinned, letting her arm flop to her side as she rolled over and shot the dark-haired boy a teasing smile._

_“You’re gonna miss me,” she sang and he laughed, shoving her back._

_“We’re all gonna miss you, dumbass,” he snorted._

_Sakura hummed._

_“Kiba, you’re always gonna be one of my best friends,” she said finally. “Of course I won’t disappear or be weird.”_

_There was a moment of silence. Only the buzzing of the fan could be heard._

_“You don’t regret this, do you?” His voice was so soft, so careful. Like she might bite him. Or run. Or both._

_Sakura felt her eyes widen and she sat up, turning to face him._

_“How could you ever think that? It’s been amazing, stupid. You’re just as dense as Naruto sometimes.”_

_Kiba winced and she laughed at the expression. She pressed her palm to his cheek gently, her smile softening._

_“I could never regret this,” she assured him._

_His usual wolfish grin was back and she smacked his arm when he replied with, “I mean how could you, I’m amazing in bed.”_

Sakura jolted back to the present as Ino threw a dress at her face. It was a deep crimson, tight of course, and Sakura rubbed a finger over the soft material.

“Kiba didn’t need a phone call,” she said suddenly. Ino raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow, waiting.

Sakura felt another soft smile on her lips.

“He didn’t need a phone call,” she repeated. “My promise was enough.”

* * *

 Sakura was one beer and two shots in when the boys arrived. Tenten had challenged her to a contest Sakura couldn’t refuse: winner got free drinks.

“Sakura!”

Kiba’s voice flowed over the din of the bar and Sakura was already standing, trying not to wobble in the mile-high heels Ino had practically forced her into.

“Kiba,” she laughed as he enveloped her in a hug. He smelled the same, like pine and dirt, and his heater-like warmth seeped through his clothes and warmed her bare skin.

“Missed you, kid,” he murmured into her ear before releasing her. “Let’s see the bigshot Tokyo journalist.”

Giggling, she did a twirl, blushing. The alcohol settled in her stomach pleasantly and made the room feel pleasantly hot and crowded, somehow. Kiba’s grin was just as intoxicating as it had been when she was eighteen and she leaned into him gratefully, glad nothing had changed. Kiba had always been just that, Kiba: steady, predictable, easy.

“Are we chopped liver?” Shikamaru snarked and she reached an arm out to him.

“A ray of sunshine as always, Shika,” Sakura remarked cheekily, pinching his chin between her fingers and laughing at the sour look on his face. Chouji snorted, a thick arm already wrapped around Ino’s waist.

Sakura eyed Ino and Shikamaru with concern, noticing the tension in Ino’s shoulders and the way Shikamaru pointedly avoided looking at her. Their friendship had never quite recovered from his harsh rejection of her and Ino had been crushed until Chouji’s admittedly unexpected confession.

Neji’s voice tore her from her thoughts and she smiled up at him, wiggling her fingers as a greeting.

“It’s good to see you, Haruno.”

Sakura clucked her tongue at his pointed refusal to use her name. It was an old joke between the two of them that he seemed to delight in, for whatever reason.

“How’s heir training going?” she asked.

“Slowly. Hinata has been so busy with the wedding, it’s hard for her to find time,” Neji admitted. Sakura hummed in agreement, leaning back automatically as Naruto threw his arm around her shoulders.

“Shot?” he asked, blue eyes twinkling. Behind him, Tenten pumped a fist in the air encouragingly. Neji looked vaguely terrified.

Sakura’s answering grin was wicked.

“Shots,” she corrected him. Sasuke was already buying water bottles from the bartender.

* * *

 The night was a blur. She remembered dancing. Kiba was there, his palms sweaty. Sasuke somehow consented to swaying awkwardly with her during a slow song. She remembered shouting the lyrics to at least five other songs.

Ino and Chouji disappeared not long after her fifth shot of tequila.

Neji looked ready to call the cops when Tenten started crying about Rock Lee for the fifth time. He kept trying to convince them all to drink water while Sasuke looked mildly exasperated.

Sasuke held her hair back when she threw up. She could hear Naruto singing outside.

When she got home, she stumbled to her room and passed out before she even hit the bed.

* * *

Sakura was the kind of hungover she was pretty sure killed people. The throbbing in her head felt like canons going off right next to her ear every two seconds. Not that she knew what canons sounded like. She wore last night’s eyeliner in a smudge around her eyes, a detail hidden by the white sunglasses she refused to move off her nose. If Orochimaru noticed, he wisely kept quiet. She sipped at a water bottle and winced at the sound of a page rustling.

“There’s a new librarian,” she observed in a hoarse voice.

Orochimaru nodded.

“An apt observation,” he remarked coolly. She scowled. Her old teacher somehow managed to always sound somewhat condescending.

After a moment of silence, Orochimaru closed his book and lifted his glasses from his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. Sakura noted the dark circles under his eyes, wondering what was troubling his sleep.

“His name is Danzo. Rather cantankerous but his book return rate is incredible.”

Sakura snickered at the dry joke.

“Wasn’t he the grocer?” she asked, remembering the name from her childhood. Orochimaru nodded. His long hair was tied up and he tapped something out on his computer.

“Yes, he wanted something a little less labor intensive, and seeing as our old librarian deemed it necessary to move to Okinawa, here we are.”

“You don’t like him.” It wasn’t a question.

Orochimaru snorted in a rather uncharacteristic manner.

“Understatement,” he muttered and Sakura grinned, leaning forward, physically perking up at the thought of receiving an actual opinion of someone from the famously impassive Orochimaru.

“Why?”

The old, guarded look was back in his eyes and she was already pouting before he answered.

“History,” he replied vaguely. He gave her a pointed look over his glasses, eyes narrowed. “Don’t you have more important things to be doing than annoying your old teacher?”

“Nope,” she declared triumphantly, even as she stood. She always knew when she had outstayed her welcome with Orochimaru. “Catch you later, sensei!”

She nearly ran headlong into someone as she began to walk down the hallway, stammering apologies before she got a glimpse of who it was.

“Ah, the infamous Sakura-san,” Danzo croaked. He was a hunched, wrinkled man currently sporting an unpleasant smirk. “Not a rare sight in these halls, I’ve heard.”

Sakura smiled uneasily, bowing her head quickly.

“Sorry for running into you, Sensei,” she apologized.

“No matter,” he answered, waving his clawed hand dismissively. “The case you’re working on is rather interesting, no?”

Sakura blinked at the abrupt subject change, shifting her body uncomfortably.

“It’s, ah, tiring,” she replied unsurely.

“Of course, who can blame someone for choosing such young beautiful girls,” he continued and Sakura bristled, mouth settling into a straight harsh line.

“Everyone,” she said flatly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

She strode away without waiting to hear his response, head high as her heels tapped against the empty hallways.


End file.
